


Left Behind

by writerllofllworlds



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt Merlin, Merthur - Freeform, Oblivious Arthur, merlin and arthur - Freeform, merthur implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerllofllworlds/pseuds/writerllofllworlds
Summary: He was content to sit back and smile as Arthur took the credit while his father played king. He was happy to clap alongside the rest of the court as the knights were bestowed honors and titles for his hard work. He could nod dutifully to men and women whom he could squash with a thought. He put up with the abuse from men of status who mistreated their power and sway.He knew what it was to be humble. He was content with staying out of the spotlight.But he was important.Wasn’t he?





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, more Merlin, what a surprise.  
> Anywhoolzles, you guys know the drill! BBC owns them all, I only own my writing!  
> I'd love feedback! Helps my motivation.  
> Love ya'll!

Merlin didn’t know when he became a background character. It started slowly, he assumed, or perhaps it was an all at once kind of thing, where it just hits you all of the sudden. There, blaring in bright light, and you sit back and wonder how stupid you must have been not to notice it earlier. He did not know, but he was not entirely happy with it.

He was content to sit back and smile as Arthur took the credit while his father played king. He was happy to clap alongside the rest of the court as the knights were bestowed honors and titles for his hard work. He could nod dutifully to men and women whom he could squash with a thought. He put up with the abuse from men of status who mistreated their power and sway.

He knew what it was to be humble. He was content with staying out of the spotlight.

But he _was_ important.

Wasn’t he?

Years passed with him in Arthur’s service, and the question reoccurred many a time to the young warlock, but this time… this was different.

Merlin was used to being forgotten by then. It had happened before, it would undoubtedly happen again, and though time did not lessen the hurt, it was no longer a surprise.

So as it was when he changed back into his old self, Dolma gone, and resurfaced near the lake, only for Arthur to be long gone. He glared down the gravelly road and was slightly shocked not to even see the red of his cape, nor any glimpse of Mordred and the Queen. They sure moved quickly.

Merlin sighed. He understood, really. Arthur had just gotten his wife back from Morgana’s evil clutches and was overjoyed. Any husband would, especially when their wife was not in her right mind and had tried to kill him.

That did not stop the familiar pain from blossoming in his chest. But, what was pain to Merlin than a constant companion? He let out a staggering breath and flung his bag over his shoulder. He glanced back at the lake beside him. The water sparkled in the afternoon sun, bright and blinding. A wonderful distraction.

Another glance down the road. He would give it a few minutes, just to wait and see if Arthur would come running back, play his worry off as annoyance, and ruffle Merlin’s hair before pulling him after the others. Yes, give the prat a chance for redemption.

So he waited.

Arthur did not come.

Merlin frowned, and someone else would have labeled it as acceptance, but the warlock had simply labeled the expression as “used to it”, and shrugged. Adjusting the strap on his shoulder, he began his trek back to Camelot, knowing Arthur would give Merlin’s horse to the Queen. He did hope that Lancelot was gentle with her. His steed was known to be skittish with anyone who was not Merlin. He seemed to have a preference.

Forgotten. Hmm, he’d have to add it to the long list of things Merlin had discovered about himself since this whole destiny fiasco began and dragons talked to him and he had to save that idiot prat. Idiot, stupid, less than, useless, small minded, weak, untrustworthy, and now forgettable as well. Oh, and of course, a murderer. That too.

He closed his eyes a moment. It was true; his adventures in Camelot, protecting its people, had shown Merlin a great deal. He had seen wonders, in the world and in others, things he would never have seen otherwise. But he had also seen darkness, in the world, in others, and himself. He had failed to save so many people, had killed so many others. Freya, and Balinor. Will, Morgana. People who had trusted him, loved him even, and they had ended up dead or worse because of him.

Merlin sometimes wondered why he stayed. Of course, Gaius remained in Camelot, but he could fare without the warlock. So, it seemed, could everyone, except maybe Gwaine. If he disappeared one day, out of the blue, or died on the battlefield, no doubt disobeying some kind of kingly order, would they mourn? Would they weep over him?

Was he worth that?

His intuition told him no, he wasn’t.

Then why? Why did he stay in a kingdom that would rather have his head than let him live a second longer?

He knew. The answer was too obvious it was laughable.

It was because Merlin loved him. And nothing else mattered.

A man he killed for. A man he destroyed for. A man he lied for. A man he hurt for. A man he hid for. A man he sacrificed for.

A man he lived for.

So he didn’t leave. He didn’t dare. Arthur wouldn’t last a day without him. Not one. He had to stay and protect him, protect the kingdom he loved. Even if he faded into oblivion someday, he would stay to make sure that Arthur remained in the spotlight, a beacon of hope and good in a world full of despair and darkness.

Arthur Pendragon and his faithful mage.

Though the king would never know that. All he was to Arthur was a clumsy idiot who sometimes was helpful. Of course, that didn’t merit waiting for said idiot to emerge from where a sorceress was holding him captive as leverage, but who was thinking of that?

Hope was something Merlin had always had, but the years wore it down. Hope was tiring, and Merlin was exhausted.

He sighed heavily again, focusing on the stones underneath his feet. Something to pull him back. Ground him to the real world and not the one where Merlin allowed himself pity. He didn’t deserve pity. Not after all the things he’d done.

He had killed so many people.

But, but he had loved so many too. Hunith, Balinor, Freya, Will, Gwaine, Gaius, Percival, Lancelot. People had loved him for all that he was. There was good, in his story. Light, in his world of turmoil and disaster. Freya’s warm smile. Hunith’s comforting hugs. Balinor’s pride. Will’s friendship. Gaius’s surety. Gwaine’s strength. Percival’s steadfastness. Lancelot’s faith. There were people who believed in him, who had loved him despite his flaws.

He might not have deserved it, but he was thankful.

Merlin looked up, jaw set. If they were willing to do that, then he could at least keep on living. For them.

And, of course, for Arthur. Always for Arthur.

In years to come, people would remember the name of Arthur Pendragon with grins of pride. They would speak of his adventures and his quests. How he conquered dragons and chimeras. How he fought against evil sorcerers and magical beasts. How he ruled his kingdom with justice and mercy. How he was the greatest king this world had ever seen.

And Merlin would fade into the background, content to smile in the shadows of the king he adored, out of sight and out of memory. Forgotten by the people he had strived so hard to protect.

Left behind by the person he loved the most.

How telling.

 

 


End file.
